


Daily Fics Drabbles

by erikahk



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikahk/pseuds/erikahk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 10 drabbles made for a challenge at the Livejournal community Dailyfics. All with John Sheppard, sometimes alone, sometimes with members of his team. Drabbles range from 200 to 500 words each.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beach

John opened his eyes slowly, feeling soft sand below his body. The sky was blue and the sun shone brightly, making him snap his eyes closed and turn his head away. 

He took one hand up to shield his sight and tried to open his eyes again. He blinked a few times until the blur settled into image. He saw green-blue water slowly rise and heard the soft sound of waves breaking onto shore. 

He sat up and frowned. He looked at himself and saw his black uniform caked with white sand, no vest or weapons then wiggled his toes at the realization that he wasn't wearing his combat boots. 

He groaned as he sat up and swayed for a moment, his head throbbing painfully and vision graying out. He shifted his feet to keep his balance and bent his head low to escape from the light of the sun. 

He stepped forward, feet sinking on the warm sand and trailing a swirly path towards nowhere in particular. He turned three hundred and sixty degrees around, not recognizing his surroundings. 

The ocean stretched as far as the horizon would allow, wind whipping at the water and bringing a salty breeze against his face. The beach extended to both sides, curving inwards and chasing the rocky mountains that stood deep into the jungle. 

John swallowed. He gave a few more steps, hand covering his eyes as he looked ahead. 

"Ronon, Rodney, Teyla!" he called, his loud voice competing with the noise of the waves. 

He turned around and waited a few moments before shouting again. 

"Anyone?"


	2. Valley

John skidded to a stop, lungs burning and legs sore from the long run. He stepped on low grass, smashing little yellow flowers and leaving the heavy forest behind. His eyes almost closed when the cool wind touched his sweaty face. 

He halted by the edge of the cliff, lips tight in a thin line as he overlooked the valley below. He could distinguish the overused path that lead to the gate, the village where it originated not too far which meant the gate was still hours away. He crouched low and took his binoculars from his vest, carefully examining the road. 

He spotted at least three dozen guards still searching around the area, now extending their hunt away from their original position. He sighed as he trailed around the activity of handcarts and farm animals, finding the men in gray uniforms knifing the cargoes and eliciting protests from the population. John shook his head and put the binoculars away. No way would he be able to get back to the settlement.

He didn't have any other choice though. His team's neck was literally hanging by a thread, or in this case a rope, which was set to end their lives in exactly one hour. It didn't leave him enough time to get back to the gate and call for backup. 

John checked his P90 and ammo before turning around and starting the way back down.

~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~

John bent low and walked silently behind the guard, carefully stepping over gravel. Bolting up, John held the man's weapon while his other hand covered his mouth and pushed him back into the tree line. John twisted the arm holding the gun, making it fall to the ground and squeezed the guy's neck until the man sagged unconscious. 

John quickly tied him up and left him next to the other three men, then made way towards the first building of the village. He peeked through the corner and crouched low as he hurried along the street to the next brick house.

He counted three guards in the square, a whole lot less than it had been earlier that day, but that was because they weren't expecting him to return. John ran to the last cover before the plaza, eyes narrowing on the sights of the P90 as he locked aim. 

He fired three quick sprays of bullets, downing all men before they had a chance to notice where he was shooting from. John remained hidden for a few moments to make sure there were no more guards coming then hurried to the center of the stone pavement to free his team. 

"Where have you been?" Rodney squeaked out loud while John cut him down from the pole. 

"I had to stay hidden until there were no more guards around," he answered as he made his way towards Teyla. 

Teyla twisted her wrists as the ropes fell from her hands then removed the one placed around her neck. "Thanks, John."

"Yeah." Ronon grinned. 

John jerked his head towards the direction he had come from, waiting for his team to follow their way out.


	3. Sweet

There was nothing sweet about it now. 

The juicy taste still permeated his tongue, tingling and itching, quickly traveling to his lips and down the back of his mouth. He paused midsentence in surprise and gasped noisily, urging his throat to work as the sensation progressed to numbness. 

He tried to swallow, but the huge block down his throat prevented anything from getting through. The fruit dropped as his hold loosened and his limbs started to tingle. He cried out, but the ragged noises he made died silently and never made it out of his lips. 

They were all there for him in a second. Soon a haze of voices surrounded him as hands grasped his body and touched his face. His eyes burned as air failed to get through and he had to reach out and grab the first obstacle in his hand's way in order to slow down his descent onto the floor. 

He felt himself being eased to the ground and stared at surprised faces, catching glimpses of worry and fear, all mirroring the tightness in his chest. Repeated deep gasps failed to bring any relief to desperate lungs and made dark spots dance around his vision. He tightened his fingers around the sleeve holding his shoulder and squeezed his eyes until tears slid down the side of his face. 

The prickle on his thigh finally allowed him to surrender and eyelids drooped until they closed.


	4. Numbers

_1\. One, unit, unity, single, solo..._

John stared at the eyes of the man before him, John's face burning with rage. The man's eyes sparkled and curved slightly upwards deepening the lines at their corners. The lips quirked to one side as the man circled John, whip raised. 

John kept his eyes open and head raised.

The leather whooshed past John’s ear before it crackled loudly and made John flinch and grunt. 

There was only one man. 

And there was only one prisoner. 

_2\. Two, deuce, a couple, a brace, a duo, a pair..._

John blinked the sweat stinging his eyes and bit his lower lip to hide a groan. He felt the angry burning on his back, the faint breeze doing little to cool off his body. 

Each time John heard the zooming behind and felt the wind shifting slightly, he carved his teeth in the already swollen flesh and tasted blood in his mouth. 

There was only two seconds in between each snap on skin. Two leather strings making twice the damage. 

_3\. Three, tri, triad, triplet, trio…_

When the man repeated the three questions again, John simply glared. 

“How long can you hold out?”

“How long until you break?”

“How long until I will get what I want?”

John raised his chin and tightened his jaw. 

There was only one question that repeated in John’s mind: _How long until my team gets to the gate?_

The three members that had escaped. 

_4\. Four, tetra, quad, quartet, a foursome..._

John didn’t need to look at the door behind him when it busted open. He only had to hear the energy burble and see the bright red light reflecting on the walls.

John sagged in relief and smiled as he looked at each of their eyes. 

Four was the number of people needed to make a difference.


	5. Innocence

The sweet smell of flowers mixed with the stench of blood and smoke. John turned slightly to the side, squeezing his eyes shut and taking short shallow breaths through his mouth to calm down his rebellious stomach. 

When he opened them again, the giant blur finally settled into image. He stared at tall grass for a few moments until he was able to focus past them. The field was smoldering, with black flecks swirling in the air like snow. 

John rose to a sitting position, taking his time when his head started spinning and almost took him straight back down. He swallowed and blinked slowly, trying to remember what had him in the middle of a destroyed meadow. 

When nothing but an empty canvas came to mind, John got up and turned in a full circle. The wind blew the small patches of grass and made the smoke spread far. The dark specks that had settled on the ground rose again, riding in the breeze. 

John stepped ahead, arms stretched out while his feet did a poor job of taking him forward. He tripped and looked down, pacing back in surprise when dead eyes surrounded by burnt flesh stared at him. He looked around again and noticed three other bodies. 

He knelt down, crashing the last few inches, and touched his own head in an attempt to make the ground settle horizontally. 

He took his knife out and traced the body, but was unable to recognize the clothes or find any identification. He closed his eyes and sighed when the inspection on the neck didn't encounter any dog tags. 

Soft scuff of footsteps had him snapping his head up and he swayed for a moment as he stared at the deep blue eyes of a little girl. She smiled and clutched her ragged doll closer to her chest while she offered her free hand for him to take. 

He narrowed his eyes and started to fall sideways when his focus was broken by a fierce pain in his skull. He felt a little hand touching his back, and allowed it to guide him back to his feet. 

As he stood, he looked down at the girl seeing her extended arm. She grasped his hand and gently pushed him, her small smile taking him away from the destroyed field.


	6. Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vegas AU missing scene, ergo, Detective John Sheppard.

John twirled the glass in his hand, the liquid inside sloshing from side to side. He stared at it for few seconds then took a deep breath and gulped everything down in one shot. It burned its way down his throat as John closed his eyes to appreciate the dizzy effect it provoked. 

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and snap around too fast. He looked up in distress and held the edge of the counter for balance, supporting half of his weight on the extra hand that prevented him from tilting down. He pushed away and grunted angrily.

"Detective Sheppard, it's time for you to go home."

John turned back towards the bar waving an uncoordinated hand at the bartender who simply stared, his eyes traveling from John to the man standing behind him. 

"Just fill the damn glass," John murmured.

The young man sighed and served the last few drops left in the bottle. John looked at it a little disappointed then raised his head to scowl at the bartender, finding him already gone. John drank, turning the glass upside down until he made sure there was no more whisky left inside. 

Stiff muscles groaned as he stood up and the world span for several seconds until his hand found some support. John looked up and saw the man still staring, his big arms crossed on his wide chest. 

"I'm going," John nodded and evaded the helping hand, careful steps taking him out of the casino. 

He crossed the parking lot, managing not to bump against any expensive cars and fumbled with his pockets to find his key. He cursed as it fell down on the ground and mumbled something as he knelt to pick them up. 

A huge head rush made him squeeze his eyes tight to prevent the nausea from spilling out and he felt his legs lose the feeble support they had on the ground. He expected to fall and was surprised when he felt steady hands holding him up. He opened his eyes and was unable to hide his shock. 

Crap.

He swallowed. "Hey, guys. Did you lose something?" John flinched at his own words. 

The biggest of the three rubbed his fist and scowled. "I was about to ask the same thing." 

John bit his lower lip and feigned a smile. 

"Don't you have something to give us?" the small one asked as he stepped forward. 

John opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He decided to close it after several seconds without successfully spilling out any words. He shrugged sheepishly. 

The punch on his gut wasn't unexpected but still made him double over. The strong hands loosened and John crashed on the pavement on his knees and hands as more punches and kicks connected with his body. He curled into a ball and whimpered when the last few kicks hit the same bruises. 

The ground vanished from under him and his legs dangled as he was lifted up by a fierce grip on his neck. It hammered his head against a light pole and he sagged on the man's arms as darkness claimed him.


	7. Day

Dry underbrush smashed loudly beneath uncoordinated feet. There was a soft thump, then the weight on her right side slipped from her hold and fell, crashing heavily on the ground. John groaned softly and rolled to his side, clutching his chest and curling around himself.

Teyla was by his side in a heartbeat, her hand going to his forehead. It was warm and sweaty. 

"John we need to keep going. Daylight will come soon."

She placed a hand on his shoulder not liking the slight tremors that rocked through his body, but they had no other choice. John nodded weakly in between ragged breaths, his eyes closing momentarily before opening again, glassy and unfocused.

Teyla took her hand under his arm and behind his back, raising him from the ground. Her chest tightened when she heard the crying whimper, but she did not stop.

She stepped forward, breathing deep as she half dragged John's almost limp body. His head rested on her shoulder and rolled to her chest. She could feel the air he released and the difficulty he had in keeping it flowing. 

They had walked for most of the night, barely able to stop with their pursuers gaining ground behind them. John's condition had deteriorated greatly since their escape, and it had already been bad to start with. She knew he needed to stop often, but he never asked for it. She gave him a few seconds every now and again, and he never complained when they resumed the stumbling through the forest.

It would be a matter of time until he couldn't keep on going anymore. She could feel his collapse was imminent. Blood still oozed between his fingers and the bandage she had made and remade was sloppy and drenched again. She needed to redress it somehow, but with all their field bandages gone and the mercenaries only a few minutes away, they had no time to stop. 

Teyla shifted his weight, adjusting her grip. She looked down at John noticing how his head lolled absently on her side, his legs not moving much at all.

"It will not be long now," she said as she panted. "We are almost there... Just... just hang on, John."

The lack of any response worried her.

She looked up and saw the first light of day breaking through the crowded tree tops. She mustered the last of her strength, her heart accelerating as she neared the clearing ahead.

She almost dropped to her knees when the bright sun of early morning glinted on the dark metal surface of the gate and announced a new day.


	8. Night

John snaps awake, breathing hard. He rubs his face with one hand feeling wetness covering his brow then sets his covers aside. He sits on the edge of the bed bringing his face to his hands, pressing his eyeballs while he listens to the soft sounds of waves crashing against the pier. He breathes in deep and looks through his partly open window, the sky still dark and punctuated by stars that after so long already became familiar to him. He smiles slightly at the sight. 

He decides to get some fresh air, knowing that any attempt to go back to sleep will be a fruitless effort. Not bothering with shoes, he walks out into his private balcony, a small shudder going through his body when the cool night air hits his sweaty skin. He grips the railings tightly to ground him into reality and looks at the horizon. 

Somehow, looking at the black water surrounding the city, going as far as his eyes could reach, is one of the most relaxing things he ever experienced in life. The only thing to top that is flying. And after five years of nightmares, looking out at the ocean is more than routine. 

The salty breeze moistures his face and makes the hairs on his arms stand up. He likes the sensation of feeling the edge of reality bringing his senses back from the dream world. It shows him what is real and what is not. He looks down at the city standing proudly beneath him and nods. 

After five years, it still stands. After so many ups and downs, all those times when they didn't think they would make it, after so many losses and sacrifices, it still humms softly to him. He often wonders if he is the only one to feel it. He doesn't mention it, hoping that no one else can, hoping that this connection makes him special somehow. Maybe the city only calls his name. Thoughts like these makes him feel home. 

There isn't one thing he wouldn't do for her. For everyone living there. For every single soul that feels Atlantis is as much as a home for them as it is for him. This city brought him back to life. Gave him a family and a purpose. Made him feel like he belongs somewhere. That he has a task to fulfill. 

It makes all the nightmares worth it.


	9. Moon

John's gaze fell through the open window watching the big silver globe shining though the black sky. Its light cast eerie shadows inside the cabin, the faint gray illumination just enough to make him distinguish shapes. 

He slowly got up from the leather couch, his eyes narrowing and his hands going up to his head. He flinched when it met a cut below his hairline near his temple. When he looked at his hand, he saw a small line of blood covering it. 

John swayed when he stood and opened his legs wider for balance. He tried to recognize the place but emptiness filled his mind. His legs crossed a twirly path to the wooden door, its weak creek filling the silence of the night as it opened to reveal the cool outside. 

A silver ring silhouetted the tress and the short grass. John looked up and saw the enormous moon shining brightly enough to weaken the stars around it. A flash of memory went through his head, the gate suddenly clear beneath hoary light. He circled around the small lodge, feeling the smooth logs under his fingertips as he used them for balance. 

A small dirt path opened through the tree line behind the cabin, faintly illuminated through crowded tree tops, bringing another sparkle of instinct that told him to follow it. 

He stumbled through the underbrush, crushing branches and dry leaves, holding the thin trunks around him to keep standing. 

After a few minutes, it opened up to a vast clearing, the moon still above, almost touching the top of the stargate. John smiled slightly, drunken steps taking him to DHD, so he could dial home.


	10. Blue

John gripped the controls tightly as they shook under his fingers. He cursed under his breath when a shudder made the ship lose altitude abruptly, making the jumper and all its occupants jump on their seats.

"Hunf... Dammit! Can you-- stop shaking this thing?" Rodney shouted from the back. "Trying-- ugh... to work here!"

"I'm trying!" John's voice came strained as he concentrated in keeping the ship steady. "I need... altitude..."

John narrowed his eyes to see past the gray blur as horizontal lines impacted the windshield. Fierce wind blew against the ship and made it almost impossible to keep in on the course that would take them out of the storm. The horizon blinked repeatedly with lightning, but so far there had been no trace of land beyond the wild ocean. 

John snapped his head around when bright light sparkled from the rear section, the buzz of electricity followed by Rodney's curses. Rodney sucked the tip of his finger while his other hand continued to work on the open panel. John turned back, another close by thunder rumbling in the air.

He split his focus among several fight controls, bringing up the HUD to the corner of the screen so he could easily keep the altitude in check. He tried pulling up when the jumper's nose made another dive down, but the ship responded sluggishly. It quivered violently when the power blinked several times before it came back, even weaker than it had been before.

"Rodney!" he yelled.

"I know! I know!" Rodney grunted. "I'm working as fast as I can, but the energy spikes keep... Dammit!" There was a groan and more curses. "I am barely keeping ahead of the problems here!"

John knew that. He had no doubts that Rodney was doing the impossible to keep them in the air, but John didn't know how much longer he could keep on flying. It had already been three hours and the storm still looked like it would go on.

When they had first arrived on that planet, the weather had been nice and hot. The natives occupied a small island far from the mainland where the gate was located and lived of fishing and building ships. They had a fairly advanced sea fairing technology which included weather instruments so accurate it had impressed Rodney. When the team had been warned about a sudden weather change, they hadn't hesitated before starting their way back. The Cilans had said they would have time to make it back to the gate, but they were obviously wrong.

It wouldn't have been so bad if a lightning hadn't decided to cause havoc in the jumper's systems moments before John could have taken them above the dark clouds. Now, they were stuck in the middle of it, right at open sea.

A blue shimmer was merely a dream at the moment.


End file.
